


Breathing Galaxies

by kaibasetos



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaibasetos/pseuds/kaibasetos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I do believe his mouth is Heaven, his kisses falling over me like stars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathing Galaxies

**Author's Note:**

> [[Valentine's Day Fic Bash 2016](http://kaibacorpking.tumblr.com/private/139289273480/tumblr_o2jex0gLDG1uy32l2)]
> 
> Ah, yes, this fic. This fic was written for a few reasons:
> 
> 1\. I love Mastershipping. Like, a whole lot. So much.  
> 2\. I love the idea of Otogi wearing his hair braided when he sleeps because it's so long. Those of you who have read Hydra might have picked up on this.  
> 3\. I love the idea of Kaiba braiding Otogi's hair and literally will not stop talking to Joey about it, so I finally decided to put my word processor where my mouth is and actually write about it.
> 
> That's it. That was my whole creative thought process. Enjoy!

“Stay still,” Kaiba reminds him. “No fidgeting.”

Otogi is sitting between his legs, back to him, practically situated in his lap. He can’t see Otogi roll his eyes in response to the statement, but he knows it happens anyway. Otogi makes an unnecessarily overdramatic show out of sitting up perfectly straight, stiffening his slim shoulders, his hand sliding across the sheets of the bed to brush against Kaiba’s calf. Kaiba takes a deep breath.

“Good enough for you?” Otogi asks with an air of teasing.

Kaiba responds with a small _hmph_ of a noise in the back of his throat, reaching out and touching Otogi’s hair with a sort of reluctance that borders on reverence. It’s pulled back in a neat ponytail, falling across his upper back. Kaiba takes his time combing his fingers through it, soft and smooth and black in his grasp, as he separates it into sections. He’s aware, too aware, of how much Otogi likes this, how his posture relaxes into something pliant and his breathing becomes a low hum of contentment.

He tries to ignore the way his chest swells with pride and satisfaction, how good it feels to be the one to take care of him like this, to disarm him, make him something gentle and fond. Instead, he focuses on weaving the sections of Otogi’s hair over one another, slow and precise.

The silence between them is pleasant and comfortable until Otogi breaks it, his fingertips splayed across Kaiba’s knee, his head tilting back. “When did you learn how to do this?”

Kaiba considers this for a moment.

“I learned from my biological mother when I was very young.” The words come soft, easy where they should be painful, and Kaiba doesn’t want to think about that. “She never had the opportunity to explicitly teach me, but I watched her often. It’s one of the few memories of her I have retained. I braided Mokuba's hair for him when she passed and there was no one else to do so. It would become a tangled mess without the proper attention.”

“That’s sweet,” Otogi comments, lazy and peaceful but sincere. “Do you still braid it for him?”

“When he requests it.” Otogi leans back into him as he speaks, and Kaiba tries not to belie that he freezes up at the sudden, stark realization of how close they are. “That isn’t as often now that he has matured.”

“But he does ask you to do it.”

Kaiba pauses. His eyes flick up to the back of Otogi’s head, as though he’s attempting to decipher what Otogi is thinking by staring at him. “Yes.”

“I don’t have an ulterior motive for talking about it, Kaiba,” Otogi reassures him, laughter in his tone. “I’m just curious. It paints quite the charming picture of you.”

Kaiba’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t answer, returning his gaze and his attention on the task at hand. Eventually, the action of it comforts him back down again. There’s a soothing quality to braiding, really. It requires a certain amount of meticulous dexterity, and getting anything just right, no matter how small it is, fills Kaiba with gratification. Nothing else could feel quite so satisfying.

Except, perhaps, for the way Otogi practically melts into him when he does it. That’s a reward of its own caliber.

“It’s really relaxing,” Otogi murmurs, as though in tandem with Kaiba’s thoughts. His voice is warm and honeyed, a particularly sensual variety of praising and loving that makes Kaiba’s hands tremble a bit. He tilts his head to look back at Kaiba as best he can. “You’re so tender about it. Do you even realize that?”

The atmosphere between them shifts and changes. Kaiba’s jaw clenches. He abruptly looks away to find the red hairband lost somewhere in his sheets, using it to tie the end of the braid tight so it won’t slip undone in their sleep.

He does realize it, of course. He’d just been assuming Otogi wouldn’t.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what that tenderness means.

The fact that he doesn’t ever want to hurt him.

“Done,” he says stiffly, resolutely refusing to meet Otogi’s eyes.

As though he’s been waiting on his cue, Otogi sweeps the braid over his shoulder and turns around, settling on his knees with his hands running up Kaiba’s shoulders. He hooks a finger under Kaiba’s tie and tugs to loosen it, smiling. “Why aren’t you looking at me, Kaiba?”

Kaiba swallows and forces himself to make eye contact, his hands clenched at his sides.

“Ah,” Otogi breathes in understanding, sliding his arms around Kaiba’s neck. His touch is light where it rests. His eyes are vivid and playful, lined in stark black. His lips are inviting. Kaiba deliberately puts that out of his mind. “I noticed something I wasn’t supposed to, didn’t I?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Kaiba responds automatically.

Otogi laughs. Kaiba can feel it against him. He hopes Otogi doesn’t catch the way his arms quiver.

“You know, I think there’s something you still need to learn,” Otogi whispers to him, leaning in and pausing for effect when their mouths are only inches apart. Kaiba tenses immediately, redirecting his gaze to the opposite side of the room on reflex, his fingers curling hard into his sheets.

“And what would that be?”

Otogi shifts to rest his palm on Kaiba’s jaw, wordlessly coaxing, and Kaiba hates how he instinctively moves into it, moves into him. The loss of control. It makes him want to jerk away, to revolt, but Otogi holds him there, holds him steady with a caring sort of resolve, something that says _don’t worry, I’ve got you_.

“It would be that caring about someone isn’t as dangerous as you like to think it is.”

He punctuates this by closing the distance between them and kissing Kaiba, soft, ardent, and the instant their lips meet Kaiba’s hands are on him, under his shirt, skimming along his spine. He can’t stop himself anymore. He’s piloted by instinct, by desire, by the simple fact that not touching Otogi when Otogi’s mouth is on his feels like a crime. Otogi exhales a pleased sigh, arching into the feeling of Kaiba’s nails dragging over his back and urging him in, and Kaiba kisses him like he’ll never have another chance, like this is all he has, all he wants, yearning and bruising.

Otogi surrenders to him, yielding, his lips parting, and Kaiba flushes hot when he feels Otogi's pierced tongue slide against his. Otogi’s fingers tighten involuntarily in the fabric of his shirt, the only way he can hold him right now. He breathes the night sky into Kaiba’s lungs, nebulous and abstract, and with it a soft moan that draws Kaiba in, makes Kaiba want to pull that sound from him again. Again, again and louder, until that sound is all his voice can form. Kaiba is addicted to it, being the source of that pleasure, the cause and the catalyst. It’s all he can think about.

Otogi pulls back by fractions and Kaiba is fighting a war against the frantic impulse to follow him, chase him with his mouth and kiss him more, kiss him harder. Otogi’s eyes are half-lidded. He’s smirking.

“Have I made my point?”

Kaiba studies him for a brief moment, vibrant and tinted with seduction. He feels fractured by the sight of him, wild and desperate, and he knows that Otogi is wrong -- caring about someone is most certainly as dangerous as he thinks it is. It is nothing if not risky, nothing if not threatening, perhaps the most dangerous thing he could do in this life. The more important point remains: is the danger worth it?

“Yes,” Kaiba whispers, and gives in to the burning need to kiss him again.


End file.
